


The Wicked Witches of Western Pennsylvania

by TheoMiller



Series: The Great Supernatural Rewrite [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, post apoca-whoops-never-mind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheoMiller/pseuds/TheoMiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are trying to get back to hunting evil sons of bitches after the Apocalypse That Wasn't - with Cass still tagging along, to protect them from the possibly murderous Nephilim-turned-goddess-of-death they picked up along the way - and Adam's there too, because apparently learning to hunt is the best way to apologise for saying yes to Michael. Just another day in the life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You’re going?” Adam asked sleepily.

Avella’s lips twisted into a bitter grin. “They don’t want me here, I don’t want to be here, so I’m leaving.”

“Do you need to call someone? Where are you going to stay?” Adam asked, taking a glass from one of the cupboards and filling it from the tap. Avella briefly wondered when he’d learned the layout of the kitchen.

“I’ll check into a hotel or something and call Minerva. I think she’s studying spiders in Australia.”

“Minerva as in… the goddess,” Adam said.

“Yep,” Avella replied. “Learning curve, huh?”

“What if Minerva doesn’t pick up? Here,” He passed her a cheap mobile. “Sam gave me this. Call her now. If she doesn’t pick up, you can just wait.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you care?” She asked.

Adam shifted from foot to foot. “I don’t want to be alone with the Dream Team,” He growled finally. “It’s like high school all over again. And… your dad died because of them, right?”

“It wasn’t their fault,” She said. “I blamed Lucifer. And yeah, the revenge trip probably wasn’t healthy, but I saved the world. You should blame those ghouls—and Michael, since he didn’t bring her back. So don’t kill the Winchesters, alright? People a lot more powerful have tried and died for their troubles.”

“I know, spare me the speech. I’m not homicidal. Just call your friend,” He sat down and sipped at the water, watching her closely.

Avella slid her thumbnail in and flipped open the phone. After a moment’s pause—her memories were hazy from her lingering headache—she dialled a familiar number and waited for the click of the other line picked up. “Hey, Minnie,” She said when the click came.

“Seph?” Minnie said, surprised. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I was just wondering what you’re up to.”

“Hold on a moment,” Minerva told her. “Always pack spare anti-venom!” She yelled to someone on her end. Then, “Sorry. Humans forget they’re mortal far too often.”

“Is someone dying?” Avella asked.

Adam gave her a horrified look.

“Nah, we’re still packing. I know how you hate deaths. So, where have you been the past century?”

Avella flashed Adam a thumbs up and mouthed _no-one’s dying_ before answering, “Oh, I spent the first half of the twentieth century in New Zealand, then hit the Amazon,” She said. “Now I’m in America, a small town in South Dakota.”

“Ah,” Minerva said—she knew about the Winchesters, of course—“Angel business?”

“Very important angel business,” Avella agreed, “Of the apocalyptic variety.”

Minerva swore. “You okay?” She demanded.

“Yes, Minnie, I’m fine. Just a bit low on power—I took a nap and woke up alive, so that’s a plus. The apocalypse is over, which is another plus.”

“So I guess you can’t zap over to Australia?”

“I was wondering if you could help me with that, actually,” Avella said. “I hate to hang around hunters for longer than necessary.”

Minnie hissed in sympathy. “Sorry, I’m a bit tied up—is it really important?”

Avella bit her lip. “Nah,” She said finally. “You hunt those spiders. I’ll call Artie. Thanks, Min.”

“Seriously, hon, I can drop everything and be there in 5 seconds,” Minerva said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Avella told her. “The hunters haven’t gotten out the pitchforks yet, so it’s not an immediate concern.”

“Alright,” Minerva said suspiciously. “You’ll call if anything changes, right?” She added.

“Of course I will. Have fun.”

“You too,” Min replied in an absent voice, followed by the murmur of other voices and the rustle of paper.

“See you,” Avella hung up and looked down at the phone for a moment. “Bloody nerd,” She muttered.

“Is Artie _Artemis_?” Adam asked.

“Yes,” Avella said. She dialled another number and listened to the ringing while Adam shook his head and grumbled about _freaking supernatural creatures_ and stared into his glass of water. Just when she was sure the answer phone would be picking up any moment now, a familiar voice answered. “What?”

“ _Apollo_?” Avella said, before she could stop herself.

Adam squeaked and almost dropped his glass, staring at her with wide blue-green eyes.

“Ugh,” Apollo groaned. “Hello, Persephone. Artemis is in Scotland. What do you want?”

“Why is she—you know what, never mind all that. When will she be back?”

“Dunno,” He said.

Avella sighed, “Fine. Can you take down a message for me and pass it on when she does get back?”

“I suppose.”

“You suppose? Well, that’s helpful. Sullen bastard. Anyway, write this down: ‘Artie, I’m in Sioux Falls, Dakota. I need a ride back to Europe. Please come as soon as you can. Love, Seph.’ End message.”

“What, you’re not even going to ask me to bring you over?” Apollo sulked.

“Would you?”

“Well, no. But I’m offended that you didn’t ask, all the same.”

“Just take the damned message down,” Avella snapped.

“Alright, alright,” He growled. “In Sioux Falls, need a ride, come A-S-A-P.”

“Thanks,” Avella grinned suddenly, “Hey, Apollo? Don’t rape any trees,” She hung up quickly, before he could reply, and laughed. “So, Adam, looks like I have a little while until Artemis can pick me up, provided Apollo actually gives her my message. He gets upset so easily, it’s impossible not to tease him.”

Adam just groaned.

X-x-X-x-X

“I’ll be leaving soon,” Avella said conversationally while Dean was making himself breakfast that morning. “As soon as Artemis gets back from… whatever it is she’s doing in _Scotland_. About a week.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Are—are you sure? You could stay, if you wanted.”

She folded her arms and waited.

“It’s just, you said it yourself, it’s a miracle we’re not dead. We could really use—I mean, not use! We don’t want to _use_ you, Just, you’re obviously a good fighter, and you can’t exactly rejoin the pagans, and there are no new religions for you to set yourself up in. Especially since you’re fried.”

Avella eyed him and wondered if he, too, was afraid to face his brothers now that the press of the Apocalypse was done. “I could always go back to Gaia. Should only take me a week to be able to go back home.”

“Gaia?” Sam asked.

Avella took another bite of a Snickers bar. “’swat I call her. Hey, Cass! What do you call the Goddess?”

“Mother of All,” He said, sounding confused.

Dean turned around. “There’s a Goddess, and you never thought to ask her for help?”

“She nurtures. She doesn’t discipline,” Castiel said.

“And,” Avella said, “Cass couldn’t find her if he wanted to.”

“Then why do you know where she is?” Dean demanded.

“Because I’m Queen of the Underworld, and she’s in Purgatory.”

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and Dean pulled out a chair to sit down across from her. “Purgatory?” He asked mildly, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t understand the question,” She said, looking between them. “You do know about Gaia and God’s giant celestial divorce and Purgatory, right?”

“…”

“Or not, judging by your blank stares. Well, Purgatory was created for those non-human souls that you lot are so fond of shipping off to the underworld. Back in the day, long before I was born, Gaia and God were so close they transcended any bonds we have names for—marriage, family, friendship—and were basically two aspects of the same being. Then there came the children: God had the angels and leviathans, Gaia had the creatures you hunt, and together they created the Earth.”

“So they’re like a messed up Brady Bunch?” Dean summarised.

“I don’t understand that reference,” Castiel rumbled.

Avella shuddered. “You don’t want to.”

“Go on,” Sam said.

“The leviathans were dangerous; unable to bear killing them, God created Purgatory to trap them away from the angels. Then when Gaia’s creations began to prey upon the newly developed humans, he confined the souls of their dead to Purgatory as well. Gaia, unable to allow her children to be eaten by leviathans in the afterlife, went with them. She made God promise to care for the Earth first, though. That’s why Lucifer got angry.”

“Because Daddy loved his new kids more,” Dean said. “Well, that’s a nice bedtime story.”

“Isn’t it?” Avella said without a trace of irony.

“So your plan is to go to Purgatory?” Sam asked. “Why can’t you go to Heaven with Castiel to help run things again?”

Avella turned to look at him. “Would you like help?” She asked.

“Actually, could you get me into Purgatory?” He replied.

“Um?” Avella said. “Look, _caelicola_ , I’m not sure what makes you think opening that particular can of seeds is a good idea, but—”

“Worms,” Dean corrected.

“Yeah, it’s ‘can of worms,’” Sam said.

“Huh,” Avella said, tilting her head to one side and looking remarkably like Castiel for a moment. “Anyway, I don’t think opening Purgatory even a little bit is a good idea. Actually, it’s an astoundingly bad one. Clearly Darwin did not see you lot coming, because by his rules, you should be well and truly dead. Why would you _ever_ want to open Purgatory? Gaia is lovely, great gal, but she’s not one to leave her kids behind.”

“It wasn’t Gaia I wanted,” Castiel admitted.

She frowned. “Who—what?”

“I thought perhaps I could lead the leviathans against—”

“NO!” She said, springing to her feet. “Holy crap, no, Cassie, not a good plan. Have you met a leviathan? Their alpha is a dick.”

“I need to stop Raphael.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“I—Raphael is rather angry,” Castiel admitted. “He wishes to take Michael’s place, and I would rather the angels exercise free will.”

She sighed and shook her head. “You can lead a hellhound to the Styx, but you can’t make him drink.”

Sam piped up, “It’s ‘you can lead a horse to water’.” When Avella turned to glare at him, he ducked his head and grinned.

“So, fledgling, want me to come kick Uncle Raphael’s ass?”

“I don’t think a Nephilim would be well-received,” Castiel said delicately.

Avella peered up at him. “You really do love making understatements, huh? Well, alright. I’d hate to cause a stir,” She grinned in a way that suggested she didn’t quite mean _hate_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the boys actually start a hunt but get sidetracked by nerd things.

“Boys! Got a hunt for ya.” Bobby called from the next room, where he may or may not have been hiding from all the awkward social interaction with those of the angelic persuasion under the pretence of getting back to work.

“Looks like witches, apparently,” Adam added. “Weird deaths and stuff.”

It was an odd and less than healthy way of apologising, learning to hunt, but precisely what one could expect from a Winchester.

“I’m not sure if witches are good for a first hunt,” Sam said carefully.

Dean nodded. “Maybe you should wait for a salt and burn.”

“I can babysit,” Avella yawned. “Cass, you can handle both the Winchesters, right?”

“Cass doesn’t babysit _us_ ,” Dean scoffed.

Everyone turned to stare at him. Avella let out a low whistle as Castiel cocked his head to one side. “What do you mean by that, Dean?” He asked in a dangerous tone.

“It’s just…” Dean rolled his shoulder. “Never mind.”

“I wish to know what you were going to say,” Castiel insisted.

“Bobby!” Avella said brightly. “I have the gift of languages, I can totally brush up those old translations. Hey, Sam, Adam, you guys familiar with Proserpina? That’s me as well, funny story…” Everyone hurried over to her, leaving Dean to square his shoulder and answer.

“I AM NOT A BABY IN A TRENCHCOAT.” Castiel intoned from behind them, the capital letters clearly evident in his voice.

Adam looked around at them. “Is this—is that normal?” He asked quietly.

“The three of them are like one giant married couple,” Bobby said, including Sam in his hand wave.

“Did not need that mental imagery,” Adam complained.

“First off Adam, old married couples like them generally can’t stand to be in a room together, let alone be intimate,” Avella said. “Secondly, those are pretty decent mental imagery—well, they would be, if only you and Dean weren’t brothers,” She added to Sam.

Sam pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Never mind, go ahead and rejoin the pagans.”

“What?” She said, waving an ancient Greek text at him. “It’s a compliment. You’re all reasonably attractive.”

“If you idjits are done with the chatter fest,” Bobby grumbled.

Avella peered at him over the book. “You remind me of my old friend Charon. So, witches. How does one hunt a witch? Why can’t you just shoot them? You lot have to have spell resistant bullets, right?”

“It’s more a problem of finding them,” Sam explained. “Even in a small town, there are a lot of weird people about, and sometimes we suspect the wrong person several times in a row. It’s like a normal murder investigation, we have to find the links.”

She nodded slowly. “So you want me and Adam to hang back and watch the professionals show us how it’s done while you three track down the witch?”

“It’s not like that,” Sam said.

Castiel stormed over to them. “Can we leave? Or is it _too dangerous_?”

“Oh, boy, they’ve had a little domestic,” Avella huffed. “So, a witch hunt! How far away is it? And Cass, can you zap us there? I mean, unless you want to be squished into that metal death trap of a car with these three clowns.”

“Totally seeing the familial similarities to Gabriel right now,” Sam said.

Floundering about for a distraction, Avella reached out to pick up the most recent addition to the nearest stack of books and newspapers, frowning down at the front page’s tagline. “What’s today?” She asked, waving it around.

“May 30th.” Sam said.

“ _What_? How long was I asleep?”

“It was sixteen days. We thought you were going to die,” Castiel said.

“I haven’t been out that long since the Grigori last tried to kill me,” Avella wondered. “No, hold on, I was unconscious for seventeen days and bedridden for three more in the mid 19th century.”

“Did you get involved in the revolutions or what?” Sam asked.

“Very astute, Sammy. But no. I was in England, fighting a fire.”

He leaned forward. “The Parliamentary Fire of 1834?”

“Nah,” She winked at him and said, “I was on a boat with a very old friend in those days, looking at finches.”

Sam opened his mouth, probably with about a million questions about Darwin, but his elder brother slapped a hand over his mouth. “Whoa, slow the nerd roll,” Dean said.

“He’s quite right to be excited. I’ve seen all kinds of history, Dean-o. I shot crap in speak-easies during the Prohibition. I answered prayers in the trenches of the Great War. I played knucklebones with Caesar the night he crossed the Rubicon.”

“We weren’t allowed to answer those prayers,” Cass said regretfully.

“What fire was it?” Sam interrupted the moment. “Oh! Were you there in 1666?”

Cass shook his head. “No, that was the earthbound garrisons. Avella would likely have been as far from us as possible.”

“ _Angels_ caused the Great Fire of London?” Adam said.

“Some idiots opened a Hellgate and the angels actually helped,” Avella said. “I was a bit too close for comfort, actually, Cass—namely in Hell, trying to keep angels from coming inside.”

 “So what happened when you were there?” Sam asked.

She shrugged. “I got in a pissing match with a fire pixy at a multi-species party in a warehouse. She still calls me sometimes. But anyway! I managed to evacuate all but one before I passed out. I think they called it the Tooley Street fire.”

“How’d you escape?” Adam asked, leaning forward. Even Dean looked interested, and Bobby pretended to be reading while tilting his head towards them.

“A human woman of particular character and bravery dragged me from the fire,” She said. “She must’ve seen me run back into the flames and followed me. But anyway! I’m sure my past is all very boring compared to a shiny witch hunt.”

Adam’s shoulders slumped as they all turned back to him. “Alright. Well, there’ve been a bunch of mysterious disappearances, followed—within a few days—by bodies turning up. One was just the guy’s severed head inside of an old red stocking. There have also been two women with their feet mutilated, hanged from outside City Hall and surrounded by a flock of angry songbirds.”

“How peculiar,” Avella said delightedly.

“ _Peculiar_?” Dean demanded.

Sam sighed. “Can we not argue about vocabulary choice and just get on the road?”

Grumbling about freaking angel half-breeds and their lack of freaking empathy, Dean stomped off toward the Impala.

“Well, to be fair,” Avella said, “Angry songbirds and mutilated feet are pretty peculiar.”

“And oddly familiar,” Adam added, frowning.

She clapped her hands together, making Adam and Sam jump. “Right! Let’s get this freak show on the road, boys. Can I ride shotgun?”

“No!” Sam said quickly. “I mean… I’m always shotgun. You guys can sit with Cass in the backseat.”

Adam covered a cough that sounded suspiciously like _co-dependent._


End file.
